


Salt and Heat

by mindabbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/pseuds/mindabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to the mods for putting up with me. It was fun to visit with my original OTP this month!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Salt and Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for putting up with me. It was fun to visit with my original OTP this month!

Here's a repost of my July DD fic!

 **Title:** Salt and Heat  
 **Author:** mindabbles  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Remus/Sirius, Remus/OC  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Kinks/Themes Chosen:** salophilia  
 **Other Warnings:** Threw in a little of last month's theme, bradycubia. There's a touch of rimming  
 **Word Count:** 3,600  
 **Summary/Description:** Remus tries not to compare.  
 **Author's Notes:** Thank you to the mods for putting up with me. It was fun to visit with my original OTP this month!

"Where are you going?"

Remus asks the question even as he knows it will not receive an answer.

"Come with me and you’ll find out," Sirius says. He smiles and Remus could almost let himself fall back in. "I can’t just leave," Remus says. He can't.

"Your job keeping you here?" Sirius snaps.

Remus grits his teeth. The tendency to lash out when he’s hurt or disappointed isn’t one of Sirius' traits that he’s missed. "Sirius," he says slowly. "I have to stay."

"Moony," Sirius says, just as slowly. He leans closer. He’s aged 20 years in 13. "You do what you have to do then. I’ll send an owl."

"Sirius, please don’t—"

"It’s fine. Of course you have a life now. I never expected you to sit waiting for me. It’s fine."

The tense cut of Sirius’ shoulders and the ache in Remus’ stomach tells him that it’s anything but fine.

*

David’s body is tight and hot around Remus. He grips David’s hips, watching the way his fingers dig into the flesh. David moans and Remus thrusts harder and faster. David clenches the sheets so that hard Remus is sure he’ll hear them rip, but then David would never do something so out of control.

Remus leans and presses his lips to the back of David's neck. He smells and tastes of soap. Clean. Antiseptic. Impersonal. The man doesn't sweat. He tries not to compare. He really does.

"Remus," David gasps and Remus spreads him open.

His cock disappears into David’s body, dark and slick, and David tenses around him. If he fucks David hard enough, fast enough, he won’t be able to think. David moans and clenches around him and Remus sees white. He wants to call out David’s name, but he can’t speak. He’s said enough this evening. He arrived at David's the moment Sirius left to go wherever it was that Dumbledore arranged for him to hide from the Ministry and the Death Eaters. Remus grabbed David and pushed him up against the wall the moment he was in the house. David still insisted they make it to the bed to fuck—after David washed up a bit.

David doesn't make a sound as he comes, his body tensing for a moment. Remus tries not to picture Sirius' eyes when he'd said he was fine and thrusts hard into David until he comes.

Remus collapses on the bed and David roles over onto his back, both of them panting to catch their breath. They don’t roll together, David’s head settling onto Remus’ shoulder as it usually does. Remus doesn’t gather him up, pulling him to him.

"I—are you all right?" Remus asks after what feels like minutes of silence. David is affectionate and kind. He’s been nothing but wonderful for the past two years. He deserves better than this.

"I could live with your memories." David turns his head, tearing his eyes from the ceiling as if it takes great effort. There’s a resigned looked in his usually bright, warm blue eyes. "I could live with the fact that you still loved him because there was no way he could come back, and because you knew you shouldn’t because of what he did."

"David—"

"No, Remus. It’s my turn."

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

"That’s all changed now. You don’t want to be here and I don’t want you to stay out of loyalty. I actually do think too much of myself to allow that."

Remus starts to tell him he does love him—in a way. He starts to say that the last two years have been the best since 1981. David shakes his head.

"You’re a good friend," Remus says, because it’s true and because it is the one thing he can say without insulting David. "And you’re a catch."

"Go," says David.

Remus leans and kisses him on the cheek. "Thank you."

*

"You might have found a nicer place," Remus says.

Sirius laughs. His laugh is rusty with lack of use. Remus smiles and drops his suitcase. It’s light. He didn’t bring much. He didn’t really know what to bring.

He’s landed on what looks to be a deserted stretch of beach. At first glance, it’s deserted for good reason.

"Next time, you’ll make my travel arrangements, then," Sirius says. His hands hang awkwardly at his sides. The hot, humid breeze ruffles his hair. Remus wishes that he had pulled him into his arms the moment he arrived. There was a time Sirius never looked awkward.

"I will. I’ll find a nicer place and one that’s easier to get to."

"I like the sound of that, Moony," says Sirius and Remus knows he means something more than the actual ins and outs of travel.

The sand on the beach is dark and it looks a bit muddy. There is moss the colour of overcooked peas on the plentiful rocks that pock-mark the beach and the waves lapping at the shore are thick with seaweed. The row of cottages, better described as shacks, at the top of the beach is well past its glory days. Remus is about to ask if Sirius is staying in one of them, and if he’s squatting, when a flock of parrots swoop into the nearby trees and begin an awful racket.

"Does what’s his name know you’re here?" Sirius asks, looking out to sea as if Remus’ answer is of no consequence to him. Remus breathes a sigh of relief. He can still see straight through Sirius.

"He does."

Sirius nods and starts off up the beach.

He does indeed push open the door of one of the ramshackle shacks. Torn curtains flap in the windows and the gaps between the boards that make up the walls are large enough for one of those parrots to fly through. It’s sparsely furnished, but Remus can see where Sirius has made some effort. Two comfortable looking chairs face a big window that opens to the sea. The bed is pushed next to another window that faces the hills behind the beach and is covered with a thick blanket the same colour as the sky.

"Apart from the chairs and the bed, it looks like the Shrieking Shack," Remus says.

"As I recall, we had some pleasant times there," says Sirius.

"We did at that," Remus agrees. "And some unpleasant ones."

"You must be hungry," Sirius says. His eyes shutter and Remus feels him step back away from him, even though Sirius doesn’t move.

Remus wants again to pull him into his arms and tell him how he’s missed him. "Yes, I could eat."

*

The café is right on the beach. It’s around the bend from Sirius’ shack and they had to walk through the surf to get there. Remus’ sodden trousers cling to his legs. He digs his toes into the sand and can’t help but smile at the way Sirius relishes every bite of his dinner. It is exquisite. The grilled grouper is nothing like the fish at home. It must have been moving minutes before it was on the plate. A strong, sweet drink of local rum and fruit goes perfectly with the spicy fish and goes right to his head.

The waves lap at the shore 20 feet away and the sun sets over the hills, casting a golden light over everything.

"It’s beautiful here," he says.

"It just takes some time to see it," Sirius says, tipping back his rum.

*

The warm breeze has cooled enough to be, if not pleasant, not sweltering. Remus sways a little when he walks on the soft sand, whether because of the amount of rum he consumed or because it's an excuse to bump into Sirius, he wouldn't say. Sirius swings his arms and their knuckles brush. Remus clears his throat, about to say something to get the warm conversation of dinner going again. Remus glances at him and Sirius looks doggedly ahead. Beads of sweat have appeared on Sirius' forehead. Remus isn't quite sure what to do with this tentative, uncertain version of Sirius who seems to appear at random.

They make their way back to the stretch of beach where Remus Apparated. He can almost imagine Sirius washing up here, hair a tangle of seaweed, skin coated with salt. A castaway.

Trust Sirius to wash up on a beach with a café that boasts the strongest local rum in the tropics.

"What's funny?" Sirius asks. Remus hadn't realised he'd laughed.

"This beach looks almost presentable in the dark," Remus says.

"This beach has hidden charms. We're kindred souls."

There was a time Sirius' charms were never hidden. Remus let's that one go.

"The company's improving it," says Remus.

"Remus," Sirius says, stopping. They're close enough to the sea that the next wave laps at Remus' feet. "Why are you here?"

 _For the white sand and aqua waters, because I couldn't miss this rum, because I always wanted to actually live in a shack_ —all run through his head.

"Because you're here," he says. Because that's the truth. He turns to face Sirius and he cups Sirius' jaw with his hand. He sighs aloud when Sirius doesn't pull away.

"What about David?" Sirius asks, and Remus has to give him credit for not infusing 'David' with the sarcasm he has every other time he's spoken of Remus' lover. Ex-lover.

"David knew what it meant when I left to come to you. He's always known it was you. He's a good man and he deserves better than that."

Sirius takes Remus' free hand. "So do you," he says. "You never could see that. Why can't you ever see what you deserve?"

"I need you to show me. I always have."

Even with that, Remus is still the one who moves to kiss Sirius. His lips are salty from the sea air and his skin is damp under Remus' fingers. For one dizzying moment, he's taken back to their first kiss and their first time, on a beach far away on a hot, sweaty summer day.

Sirius' fingers dig into Remus' shoulders, like he's a drowning man, and he probably is. Sirius presses against him. Melts is a better word. The heat of his body makes Remus' cock harden. Remus presses his lips to Sirius' throat. He smells and tastes of salt and sweat. Filthy. Sweet. Real.

But then, Remus tries not to compare.

Sirius' hands shake. They flutter down Remus' back and land, one on his waist, one at the top of his arse. Sirius arches his neck and Remus sucks on his tender flesh, tasting him and drawing every bit of salt and heat into his mouth, onto his tongue.

Remus rolls his hips, slowly, deliberately. His cock presses against Sirius'. They're both hard as stone.

"Fuck," Sirius moans. He rocks against Remus, hot and hard and needy. "I missed you."

"Me too," Remus says. He presses his hand against Sirius' chest and drags it down, over his stomach, heaving with hard, fast breaths. Remus has to go slow to keep Sirius' feet on the ground, to stop him from flying off in all directions. He always has. Remus' lets his hand ghost over Sirius' cock and Sirius' gasps his name.

"Never thought I'd—are you really here?" Sirius whispers.

Remus kisses Sirius' warm, open lips and wonders if there will ever be a time that Sirius doesn't break his heart.

*

Remus was all for taking Sirius right there on the muddy sand, taste of salt in the air. He would have taken his time, working Sirius into a frenzy so he could bring him back down, bring Sirius back to him. Sirius insisted, he had a bed and he didn't want to be interrupted. He'd waited too long, he said, not to do this right.

He pulls Remus up the beach by the hand and to his little shack. The nervous energy ripples from him. Remus can feel it in his fingers and it occurs to him for the first time that Sirius is afraid.

As soon at the rickety door swings shut behind him, Remus pulls Sirius into his arms. He kisses Sirius, slow and deep. He winds his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of Sirius' neck. It's damp with sweat and Remus' pulse races.

Sirius pushes back, breaks away. "Moony," he says. "Don't go away."

As if he would think of it. Sirius turns and starts to the loo.

"Where are you going?"

"I need a shower—I didn't expect…" Sirius says again.

It's one of the thousand little things that twists in Remus' belly since he's been back. Sirius never used to need to expect anything. They used to tumble into bed—or the floor or the table—after flying for hours or tromping through the woods, and later after battles, covered with dirt and sweat, because they couldn't wait.

Remus grabs his hand. "I want you as you are."

Sirius starts to argue and Remus knows what he's going to say. He's changed. He's not beautiful as he was. Remus knows how to do this. He was never beautiful to anyone but Sirius. Now they're even.

"I want you as you are," he says again.

Sirius closes his eyes and Remus kisses him again. He kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He licks the salt and sweat from his skin.

"You smell the same," he says.

"You're filthy," Sirius says. He laughs like a rusty gate.

Remus laughs, too. "You remembered," he says.

He walks Sirius back until they bump into the narrow cot. His lips never leave Sirius' skin.

The room is hot and close. A bead of sweat rolls down Remus' back. He slips his robe off and the warm breeze from the ocean-facing window does little to cool his skin. Sirius sits on the cot and looks up at Remus.

"You're going to have to help me, Moony," he says.

"I know." He brushes his hand across Sirius' forehead and over his hair. His hand comes away damp. "Take your clothes off."

Sirius laughs, nervously. He hesitates. Beads of sweat gather at his temples and one runs down his cheek.

"Now," Remus orders.

Sirius closes his eyes and his shoulders relax. "Pushy bastard," he murmurs.

Remus watches as Sirius drops his clothes. He's traded his battered old robe for a gauzy shirt and trousers that make him look like he's lived on this beach for years, rather than been in prison.

"Go on," Remus says, when Sirius hesitates again.

Remus drags his fingers through Sirius' hair. He leans to kiss him and pushes him back on the bed. Sirius' neck is warm and salty under his tongue. Remus tries not to compare. David always, _always_ , tasted of soap.

Sirius squirms on the bed and Remus pins him at the shoulders. The more he moves, the hotter and sweatier he gets. Remus swipes his tongue over his collar bone and Sirius gasps, so he does it again. Sirius laughs when Remus follows his fingers with his tongue along his ribs. Sirius is thin and he wears the hard years on his skin. He doesn't shy away and Remus presses a grateful kiss above Sirius' heart. Remus can't say the years have been much easier on him, and there's no need to talk about it.

"Turn over," Remus says. The roughness of his own voice surprises him. Sirius smiles, his cheeks flushed and his eyes dark with need.

"Some things never change," says Sirius. He turns to lie on his stomach.

Remus doesn't trust his voice anymore. He uses his hands again, smoothing down Sirius’ back and over his arse. He kisses the end of Sirius' spine.

"Moony," Sirius sighs, spreading his legs wider, inhibitions and worries gone. The heat and the abandon, the taste of sweat and the smell of desire, make Remus thrum with need. What he never got David to understand, Sirius already knows.

He parts Sirius' arse cheeks and kisses down the middle. Sirius groans and tilts his hips. He used to be able to make Sirius come just from this. He licks over Sirius' hole and Sirius' thighs tremble. Remus wonders if he could still make him come from this. He licks again. Sirius tastes of sea and sweat everywhere and Remus' cock throbs.

"Fuck, Sirius," Remus moans, pushing himself up. "Turn over again."

"You want me flopping about like a fish?" Sirius’ hands clench in the sheets, telling Remus he’s not ready for Remus to stop.

"I want you," Remus says. "We have time for more of that later."

"Not arguing, then." Sirius turns. His cock is hard and the tip is wet. Remus bends to lick it. "Really not arguing," Sirius moans.

Remus straddles Sirius' hips and plants one hand on his stomach. His hand slips in a combination of sweat and precome. "Fuck, Padfoot," he says. He sucks his salty, bitter-tasting fingers in to his mouth.

Sirius grips his thighs and bites his lip. "Go on then," he says—asking aloud for what he wants for the first time—and Remus nearly crows. Until now, until today, Sirius never indicated in any way that he wanted Remus back.

"Yeah," Remus gasps as he moves his hand, fingers slippery, behind him. "Mm," he hums and he pushes one finger inside. He rocks his hips a little, getting used to the feeling. Sirius rubs his hands along Remus' thighs, urging him to move more, rock harder. He slides another finger alongside the first. He bites the inside of his cheek to slow the rush of blood through his veins.

"Want to be inside you," Sirius says. He thrusts up and his cock rubs along Remus’. "Fuck, it's been so long."

Remus lifts up and moves up Sirius’ body. He grasps Sirius' cock and takes a moment to enjoy how it feels in his hand. It's been so long, but it feels so familiar. Remus is dizzy with the rightness of Sirius, flushed and sweaty, beneath him. He presses the head of Sirius' cock to his entrance and sinks down just enough to anchor Sirius there. He splays both hands on Sirius' chest.

"Yes," he hisses when Sirius thrusts up and pushes inside. The head of Sirius' cock is inside him and he sinks down as slowly as he can. He tries to steady himself on Sirius' slick skin and his hand slip again. He could fall forward, onto Sirius’ sweaty chest, lie down and feel every bit of Sirius' overheated skin.

"Fuck me," Sirius growls. His fingers dig into Remus' hips, pulling him down.

Remus resists, taking it slow. The heat of the room is intense now and a drop of sweat runs down his face and splashes onto Sirius' chest. Remus can't help it. His body jerks and he slides all the way down onto Sirius. Sirius bucks up, hitting Remus just right and they both groan. Remus can feel Sirius trying to push it faster, afraid he's going to come too soon. Remus pulls up slowly, pinning Sirius with hands and his weight. He's waited too long to have this be over in three thrusts.

"Moony," Sirius begs, writhing on the bed. "Moony, I'm going to come."

Sirius is drenched in sweat now and he's never looked so beautiful. Remus is about to tell him so when Sirius jerks inside him and Remus tightens around him. Sirius tenses every muscle, closes his eyes, and his face melts into an expression of bliss. Remus doesn’t like to compare, but in that moment, he’s never wanted anyone more. Remus sits back, pushing Sirius deeper and rocking as Sirius comes inside him. A pink flush spreads up Sirius' pale chest and he gasps for breath as if he’s been struck by an unexpected wave.

"Open your eyes," Remus says. He rolls his hips, keeping Sirius inside him. Sirius makes a strangled noise and Remus clenches around his sensitive cock. "Watch me." Sirius lifts his head and watches Remus stroke his cock. He moves his hand slowly and deliberately over his aching prick and rocks on Sirius' softening cock, keeping the same slow, excruciating rhythm. Sirius' chest heaves and the smells of sex and sweat and the sea wash over Remus. Sirius trails his hands up Remus' stomach and chest, pinching his nipples. He murmurs soft encouragement that Remus can barely hear over the warm sea breezes and the crash of the waves. The slow slide of his hand, the soft pressure of Sirius' cock, the caresses of Sirius’ voice, and the sharp twinge in his nipples build and send him over. He forces his own eyes to stay open so he can watch his come cover Sirius' stomach in pale strands and see Sirius watching him as his orgasm crashes through him in waves.

He finally lets himself collapse on top of Sirius. They’re both drenched and sticky and it’s almost too much. Sirius angles his head to kiss Remus, slowly and thoroughly, and Remus feels more taken, more possessed, by that kiss than he has by anything any lover has done in the previous decade. Remus laughs quietly, relieved and grateful, when they end the kiss.

"It’s too hot, Moony," Sirius whinges. "Off." He pushes half-heartedly at Remus’ shoulder.

Remus makes himself heavier and tightens his hold on Sirius. "All right, but I’m not going far," he says. Remus slides off of Sirius and lies sideways on the narrow cot.

"Go as far as the shower with me," Sirius says, wrapping an arm around Remus. "We can do an experiment. We’ll see how we like it wet and covered in soap. We’ll get some rest, and then I promise, we can work up a sweat again and compare."

"I do like your plans," Remus says. He kisses Sirius' hair and thinks that comparing may not be all bad, after all.


End file.
